


Apology

by Spiria



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiria/pseuds/Spiria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Taurus, Wingul takes offense to Gaius' new habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Commandant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commandant/gifts).



> This is a belated birthday gift for Caitie, because I'm bad at keeping time and even worse at trying to formulate ideas for writing.
> 
> There's some headcanon here that I borrowed from the lovely Yume. Kudos to her creativity.
> 
> (Reposted to separate from a cluster of other works.)

"The cook."

Gaius hummed in query, lifting his head to regard Wingul, who spared him no glance.

"How many times have you seen her within the past week? Ah. At least seven. Which means you've been with her every day without break," said Wingul, his attention still wrapped in studying the map under him.

Gaius pressed his lips into a thin line. "You've been watching me."

"Have I? You should know by now, that it's my task to ensure you don't squander what precious time we have at this crucial point in history." With a satisfied nod, Wingul took the map in his hands and began to roll the parchment, his delicate fingers working with familiar ease. His voice, sophisticated but thin with youth, cut scathingly through the tense silence. "This can't become routine. But it already has, hasn't it?"

His eyes narrowing, Gaius leaned back and squared his shoulders, searching for Wingul's gaze. "If this is a problem, I wouldn't have minded discussing this earlier."

"You should know better," chided Wingul, turning his back to store the map in a box. "We should be finalizing our tactics by now, yet here you are, pursuing the cook. Of all the prospective choices."

"Wingul," called Gaius. His hands rested on his knees, tense, when Wingul continued his business as if he were deaf to his own name. At last, he uncrossed his legs and climbed onto his feet, then said with finality, "I was not pursuing her."

Wingul was already inspecting another document, poring through the pages in that focused manner of his, when nothing else but the relevant details registered. It was such that the corner of his lips twitched with Gaius' denial, the gesture unseen through the curtain of long raven hair, but his tone sour and none of his concerns laid to rest.

"Then you have no excuse," he said. "A cook has no role in battle, as much as that one is unsuited to be the future king's betrothed. What will your people say, when we present them with an incomplete plan of action on the fateful day?"

"Wingul," said Gaius, again, but this time gravely as he stalked forth, "if you have a problem, do not involve the people outside of this tent."

Wingul tensed then, his shoulders raised and head lowered in a blatant display of obstinacy. He moved nary a single muscle as Gaius pressed a hand against the stack of boxes in front of them. With what was once his space now swallowed by the looming presence, his tongue followed suit and held his words, his body frozen against the heat behind him.

"I know you're more than capable of completing the plan by yourself, even against my wishes." Gaius' voice was low, even in his relative young age, and gentle in spite of his warrior's spirit as he continued, "And you know better than anyone else that I have no interest in courting others."

Of the two, Wingul treated literature with zealous respect and care. He was loath to do otherwise, and biting toward those who saw no value in maps and documents, which he claimed were key to certain victory. Gaius' words thus evidently came as a great push when the sheaf of papers slipped from his grasp and scattered across the floor, with no indication from Wingul of stooping down to retrieve them.

If anything, he appeared defeated with his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes.

"Wingul."

"I want an apology. I would demand it, even. But," turning his head, the strands of his hair sat on his shoulder and parted to show his nose and tense jaw, "I can't ask that of you. So what will you do, Gaius?"

Gaius took the stray strands of Wingul's hair in his other hand. They were like silk against his leathery palms, with a soft luster and delicate elegance in their untied state, as they tended to be outside of battle. Closing his eyes, he drew them to his face.

"I want you to know," he started, his breath light, "that you can ask anything of me."

In an instant, Wingul drew away. The motion was not without grace, and more a practiced slip out of Gaius' grasp in the direction of the exit. He was still yet to meet Gaius' gaze and kept his back turned, but now his head was raised, his withered but fierce pride straightening his posture.

His hand bare and touching the emptiness, Gaius appraised Wingul's position, waiting.

Finally, with a sudden turn of his head, Wingul caught Gaius' eyes, his gaze boring into Gaius' form.

"Begging is unbecoming. Clean up those documents," he said. Then, turning away just as quickly, he exited the tent in few swift strides.

So Gaius did, ordering the pages as they should have been and returning the sheaf to its proper place in the right box, just the way Wingul preferred.

His mind flitted to the image of a young bespectacled woman roving around the kitchen with endless energy and resolve. She should be cooking now in preparation for the last meal of the day, wiping the moisture away from the lenses as she heated the soup. She was, he reasoned, fine, and she would have shooed him away if he were to come.

Instead, it was Wingul who visited. His presence was an odd one in the busy kitchen; however, it took one look, then a second glance, before he left without so much as a word with the pink-eyed cook.

That very night, Gaius and Wingul wrapped up the beginnings of the plan. They retired with a few preparations to be made in the morning, but not before Gaius had wrangled with Wingul for a continuation of their prior conversation, just to be denied and rebuffed with noncommittal remarks.

They chased one another in circles, until Gaius stepped forth and said, "Wingul. I'm sorry."

With a wry smile, and unwilling to prolong the discussion still, Wingul drew aside the cloth covering the tent's entrance. "Then there's nothing left to talk about. Sleep well, Gaius."


End file.
